The debriefing room felt smaller than it had eighteen hours ago when they'd first locked Cutter Malgrave in the interrogation cell. Now it was crowded with senior staff, holographic displays, and the weight of intelligence that had transformed their understanding of what they were actually facing.
"He broke completely," Zeph said, pulling up the compiled intelligence on the main display. "Took eighteen hours of psychological pressure and three tubes of that gods-awful roast meat MRE, but he gave us everything. And it's worse than we thought."
Rodriguez leaned forward, his eyes red-rimmed but alert. Actual sleep had done wonders, but there was still exhaustion written in every line of his face. "How much worse?"
